Something in the Way She Moves
by iwasbroken08
Summary: In the 1960s, six young people's lives intertwine in ways they never could have guessed. Lessons on love, what is right, what is wrong and what is good, as well as loss abound. A Twilight/Across the Universe Crossover Fic. M for a reason. Canon Pairings.
1. Prologue: Girl

**AN: I don't own the lyrics or the characters or really, anything you recognize. Thanks to my beta for being amazing and lovely and a plethora of other stellar adjectives. Also, 1/2 view is prettier, imo.

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_Is there anybody going to listen to my story _

_All about the girl who came to stay _

_She's the kind of girl you want so much _

_It makes you sorry _

_Still you don't regret a single day_

- "Girl", The Beatles

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The water is lapping gently at the shore, and far in the distance, Edward can imagine the waves are stronger, violently colliding, their crests white as he sits in the sand, the cold English air making him uncomfortable. He pulls his black coat tightly about his person, attempting to cocoon all of himself within its confines, the front unzipped, but still, there is not enough material, so he settles for wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them to his chest.

He runs his right hand through his shock of bronze hair; it is too long, but he can't find it in himself to care without her next to him. Besides, she liked his hair long and shaggy.

The wind whips around him again, and he shivers.

Edward isn't sure whether it is the cold breeze or the memories of her, haunting him, that makes him quiver.

He thinks of the events of the year he spent with them and of how badly he misses their whole dysfunctional, wonderfully unconventional family. Edward remembers the first time he met everyone, the first time he met _her_.

She revolutionized his way of thinking, but then again, that had been part of the problem, in the end. She was beautiful and free and wild. Smart and engaging. A lover of music and art – his art. He loved her through and through, even in the end when things went dodgy. She had loved him; at least, he had believed she did.

He loves her still.

He always will.

But there is an ocean between them now, and he is helpless, hopeless and empty without her.

His mother wonders what is wrong with him; he is now a creature of habit, and all of his days are monotonous. He wakes, goes to work, has a pint or two alone and returns home, retiring to his room in silence. His art is suffering. It is as though he has lost his muse.

He _has_ lost his muse.

Without her, it is like he has lost a limb, a vital part of who he is, and this frightens him. He has never been dependent in this way before, and he knows not how to work within this handicap.

He misses her more than he can accurately describe, and what he wants most is that which he cannot have: to return to the place that became more of a home to him than he had ever experienced, and to see her just once more.

He stares across the ocean, picturing her face in the expanse of space above it. Dark hair hanging long and almost to her waist. Expressive brown eyes that showcase each and every emotion she feels, framed with long, dark lashes. The apples of her cheeks are naturally pink and when she smiles the effect on Edward is undeniable; even at the mere memory, he inhales quickly, his sharp breath filling his lungs fast and furiously. He wonders what she is doing. He wonders what they are all doing, but she is, as always, at the forefront of his mind.

She is beautiful and terrible; an angel and a devil; his one and only, forever.

Sighing to himself, he stands, zipping his coat up, dusting the sand from his jeans and, after a few more moments of staring over the sea, he takes a slow, deep breath and turns over his shoulder.

The walk back to town will take some time, and he must at least make an appearance at dinner.

The whole way, his thoughts surround one person.

Bella.

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**AN: The prologue is very short, but the rest of the chapters will not be. Everything will be written in the third person, and yes, this is a crossover fic of sorts, if you hadn't guessed already. I'll be combining the characters from **_**Twilight**_** with ideas from "Across the Universe". Some bits (like this one) will mirror the movie, some will not. I'll be using the soundtrack as a guide because it is fantastic.**

**Thanks for reading. That makes you awesome.**


	2. Chapter 1: Hold Me Tight

**AN: Not my characters. Thanks to le beta 'cause she's one of my favorite people ever.

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_Hold me tight_

_Tell me I'm the only one _

_And then I might_

_Never be the lonely one _

- The Beatles, "Hold Me Tight"

**…June 1966…**

The sun shines down on the two of them as they sit in the park, letting the warmth overtake them. Their picnic has long been forgotten as Bella and Mike stare into one another's eyes, enjoying their summers. Mike has just turned nineteen, and has also just graduated; Bella will be a senior in the fall at Newton High School. He is the grandson of the school's namesake, and therefore seen as their "Golden Boy". She is the daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Carlisle Cullen, and her family is considered old money and respected in town, despite the fact that the Cullens' history is not rooted in Connecticut. Mike and Bella have been dating for two years and are, for all intents and purposes, seen as the 'it' couple.

"I can't believe I graduate next year," Bella muses, extending her left hand to trace Mike's hairline. He is lying on the blanket they brought in a relaxed pose and responds by covering her hand with his own and closing his eyes, enjoying the feel on her fingertips on his skin. It is early June and the weather is perfect: all sunshine and blue skies.

"No kidding. I feel like you guys just moved onto our block yesterday, but it was eight years ago," Mike replies, remembering the summer that the Cullens moved from Washington State to Hartford. Bella had been the most beautiful girl on the block from day one, and Mike had harbored a crush for years before he felt confident enough to ask her to go steady.

Bella smiles at him as he opens his eyes. His blue eyes focus on her brown and he sits up, adjusting his position so that he is next to her. "Bella, I… have something to tell you."

"What is it, Mike?" she asks, genuinely curious.

He is nervous; it is apparent in his very demeanor now as he scratches his chin and takes a deep breath. She plays with the hem of her khaki skirt and her eyes dart downward, wondering if he intends to break up with her because he's been accepted to an out of state college. It's not something they've talked about – staying together – but she had assumed …

Mike's anxious voice pulls her out of her contemplation.

"Bella, I don't know how to say this…" His voice falters and he finds himself staring at his hands. He is looking at his knuckles, gathering the courage he needs to admit his secret and then ask what he needs to ask when Bella's hands cover his hands with hers. Her quiet, strong voice speaks.

"Mike, you can tell me anything. What's going on?"

_She is too good for me,_ he thinks, but takes a breath before beginning his confession.

He swallows hard and then it all comes out.

"Bella, I've enlisted in the Army. You know Vietnam is ugly, and I want to fulfill my duty as a citizen of the United States. I feel this is a responsibility for me, Bella, and I can't turn back now."

She is silent and wide-eyed as she croaks out, "When?"

He is grave. "I leave in three weeks for basic training. It lasts three months and then they'll ship me out to Vietnam."

Tears well up in her eyes as she considers her life without him: beginning her senior year alone, while he is halfway around the world. No homecoming, no Christmas traditions, no prom. He will be gone for her birthday; unreachable in the camp where they will mold him from the young man who stands before her now to a product of the US Army. She wonders if he will change, if he will become a whole new person – one she doesn't want to know.

The tears tumble over her eyelashes and her chin presses into her chest as her emotions overwhelm her. She has spent two years with Mike and he will be gone in three weeks. How could he wait this long to tell her? They have scarcely enough time …

As though he has heard her thoughts, he interrupts them. "Bella, don't cry. Please don't cry. It's not all bad." She looks up at him through her veil of tears, incredulous. He grins at her and reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out a simple gold band and placing it in her opened palm. "This is my promise to you, Bella, that I will return and be yours always, if you'll have me. There's no diamond, but we can consider this a promise ring, if you'd like. Will you wear my ring?"

She stares at the ring in its position lying flat in the palm of her hand and almost doesn't take it.

Marrying Mike is not necessarily unappealing; the idea that she will be a housewife and mother is, though, and she knows this is part of the plan for him. She doesn't want to marry so young, but the idea of a promise ring, implying that _one day_ they will become husband and wife, is a wonderful one. At the thought of a happy future, a smile finally quirks the corners of her lips upward. She reaches behind her neck with one hand, giving the ring back to him with the other. Bella pulls the clasp of her necklace – a simple gold chain – to her chest and unclips it. Then, she looks up at him, her smile now full-blown, and whispers, "Help me put it on?"

He crushes her in his arms and she sighs, feeling a mixture of anger at his withholding of information and young love because he has given her a ring and they have spent two years together. She closes her eyes and ignores the fact that in three weeks, she will be alone in Hartford while he prepares to place himself in the line of fire.

They part and he clips her necklace together, moving the clasp to the back of her neck as he kisses her forehead. His relief is evident; he thought she'd react in a way that was much worse than a few tears.

She sits perfectly still as his arms wrap around her and they settle into a comfortable position together. The stillness of the park is magnified and she fingers the ring that now hangs around her neck. Mike's arms are a comfort to her, and she feels safe and protected with him. He is hers, and hers alone, and though she is certain that his absence will hurt, she will stand by him and wait for his permanent return home.

*~*~*

Mike walks in with Bella early that evening and calls a meeting of the Cullens in their living room. "I have something I'd like to announce, and I want you all to hear it," he says, and Carlisle and Esme quickly enter the room, taking seats on the couch. They notice their daughter looks resigned and unhappy, but cannot consider this for too long because Mike begins to speak.

"I just told Bella this, and I wanted to announce it to you all, face to face. I know Jasper's not here, but I can't wait until Thanksgiving or whenever he's supposed to visit again." Mike wrings his hands and takes a deep breath. For some reason, he is more nervous about telling his girlfriend's father that he has enlisted than he was to make the same announcement to her. It makes no sense, but he continues to speak, regardless. "I've enlisted in the Army, and I ship out to basic training in three weeks. I'll immediately be sent to the front lines in Vietnam."

It is silent in the room as Carlisle stares at the boy in wonder. _He could have been something special_, Bella's father thinks. _He could have been the top of his class at University._ He sends a small grin at Mike and says "Well done, my boy," as his wife stares at their daughter. Esme can see through her daughter's façade. Mike's enlistment is a source of pain already to her youngest, and she wonders whether there is more to it than the fear of losing him or missing him in his absence. She makes a mental note to speak with Bella about it later, and finally diverts her attention to Mike, who is standing in front of them and appears to be relieved that Carlisle hasn't ripped his head off.

"What made you join, if I may ask?" Esme queries.

Mike looks at her, meeting her eyes with his. "My sense of duty, ma'am. Uncle Sam needs fighters; they'll have one in me."

Esme nods meekly and as her husband and Mike strike up a conversation, she glances to Bella. It appears that her daughter's mind is elsewhere. She sighs to herself and hopes all will be well.

Mike leaves that night proud and content as Bella watches him from the window of her second floor bedroom.

The uneasiness in the pit of her stomach has not lessened over the last few hours; in fact, it has only grown worse.

*~*~*

**…July 1966…**

Three weeks pass quickly, and before she knows it, Bella is standing with Mike as he awaits his plane. It will take him to Basic Training, and then he will be gone. For a while, talk circulated about him having the ability to visit Hartford again before he leaves for Vietnam, but in the end, they learned that a visit was not a possibility; he will finish basic training on October 19th, and he is scheduled to fly to another base on October 21st and then halfway around the world on November 1st. Two days is not enough time to come home, so for Mike and Bella, this is truly goodbye.

She holds tight to an address that Mike has written on card stock; it is the address that will forward mail to him. He asks her to write. She says she will try. He smiles and looks down at her sad eyes. "Bella, sweetie. Don't cry. I'm going to be fine. I'll be back before you know it and then you and I can begin our life together."

She nods blindly, staring at the buttons on his shirt as he continues to speak. "I love you, Bella. Don't forget it," he says.

Finally, she looks up at him and stretches upward. Bella presses her lips to his and wonders whether she will really cry later. For now, all that she can muster are a few tears, and she feels as though her reaction to her boyfriend leaving to face death on a daily basis is insufficient. Instead of focusing on what she views as her emotional deficiency, she allows herself to get lost in the kiss they are sharing. This is their goodbye, and she intends to make it worth Mike's while.

Their tongues tangle languidly, as though he does not have a plane to catch. He pulls her body flush with his own, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She finds that she is unable to breathe, but continues to kiss him.

When they finally part, she whispers, "Be careful, please. I will miss you."

Mike releases his grip on her and says, in a voice that is fervent and full of determination, "I will think of you every day, Bella. I love you."

He stares evenly at her for a moment before turning over his left shoulder and heading to Gate 32A.

Her 'I love you' echoes in her mind. The words will not form on her lips.

*~*~*

While Mike is being pruned for the life the Military can offer him, Bella is in Hartford, spending time with her friends and family, and missing Mike. There are times at night when her loneliness overtakes her and she weeps into her pillow, glad to be the only child in the house. If Jasper were home, he would have heard, and would surely come to check on her.

Bella stares at the ceiling on some nights, wondering what Mike is doing and willing this feeling of quiet despair to disappear.

Her first letter from Mike comes a month after his departure. It says that he enjoys Basic Training, that he's tired and worn out every day, but that the commanding officers say they see promise in him, which bodes well for the future, should he choose to make the Military a career. Along with that, he gushes about how much he misses Bella – how he longs to hold her again, and how he knows she will start school in a matter of weeks, and how much he wishes he could be there to drive her.

Bella cannot find the words to respond well, so she sends him a care package: home made sugar cookies and a spice tea, as well as a journal to keep a bit of writing in, if he so chooses. In the box, she includes a note that simply reads, "Enjoy this. I miss you. Bella."

The conflict she feels is indescribable. She misses him, but she doesn't. She cares for him, but her feelings for Mike seem to have drastically changed.

Even with the written word she is unable to say she loves him, and she cannot understand why.

*~*~*

Newton High School starts on August 23rd, a Tuesday, and Bella is not excited in the least. She is a senior and well aware that she should be happy about that, but she can't seem to find it inside of her to properly care. She dresses simply for the first day – jeans and a soft white peasant top with brown sandals - and pulls her hair back into a low ponytail.

Even as she approaches the main entrance she is apprehensive. These emotions do not make sense. She has attended NHS for three years, knows most of the students and has no reason to feel nervous. Bella refuses to believe that she is anxious because Mike is not at her side. She is a stronger woman than that. In fact, if she is honest with herself, Bella has felt off ever since Mike announced his enlistment.

She cannot pinpoint whether it is because she misses him some or if the unease she feels is because she needs to cut ties with him. It is almost as though his absence has been too easy for her to handle; She only yearns for him when she gets lonely; when force of habit reminds her that he is not there. When she goes to her locker, a pang in her stomach reminds her that Mike would have met her there and walked her to class. When she goes home this afternoon, another pang will over take her when she realizes that it is her friend Angela driving her home, not Mike. She is not lonely like she thought she would be.

Her inner turmoil continues…

She misses him.

But not enough.

Perhaps this unease she feels is guilt.

Over this strange cocktail of emotions, Bella feels a pull to go elsewhere; it is like Mike's leaving has given her the ammunition to think outside of the cookie cutter world she has lived in for the last eight years.

At home, Esme makes an effort to talk to her about the things going on in her life – she asks when Mike's last letter came and whether Bella has had a chance to write back yet. She can tell her daughter is off kilter; she is too quiet, too demure. The Bella that she, Carlisle and Jasper know is opinionated, fiercely loyal and intelligent. This new Bella has recessed into herself and is not vocal unless it is absolutely necessary.

Esme worries about her daughter, but knows that when the time is right, Bella will let her in.

Even Jasper, through telephonic conversations from his dorm at Princeton, can tell his sister is different; changed, somehow.

At school, Bella sits down in her first period class and puts on an act. She smiles, pretends she is peachy keen and gives pseudo-updates on Mike and his well-being. She tries out for cheerleader, sits at the head of her usual table at lunch and signs up to write for the school's newspaper. She appears to be the same Bella as she was the last school year – her performance is masterful.

All the while she is wondering if there is something more than life in Hartford.

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**AN: Bella's quite conflicted. Hopefully, you see the quiet references to why. Next up, we'll see a boy who is searching for something in Liverpool. Reviews are love.**


	3. Chapter 2: All My Loving

**AN: Eeep. Sorry for the delay. Real Life turned super fail, and I was internetless for a while, and the moved at the last minute (FML). But anyway. Here we are. Not mine. All SM's.**

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_While I'm away_

_I'll write home everyday_

_And I'll send all my loving to you_

"All My Loving", The Beatles

*~*~*

The darkened bar seems small despite the large space. An unknown band plays rock music from the stage and what seems like hundreds of people mill around the makeshift dance floor. Edward sits in a corner booth nursing a pint of dark ale and Tanya, his girlfriend, is near him as they talk loudly in an attempt to be heard over the loud guitar riffs.

"I don't see why you've got to go," she says honestly. "What could he offer you?"

Edward rolls his eyes as he shoves a hand through his hair. "Lookit, you couldn't possibly understand, Tanya. You've known your Mum and Dad your whole life. I've never met the man and I'm just … curious."

She shakes her head and her strawberry blonde hair cascades over her shoulders. "So you're going to go to America on the off chance that you'll actually find him?" Her eyebrows are raised in incredulity.

Edward throws a few pounds on the table for tip and stands up, taking Tanya's hand in his as he does so. They walk out of the bar and onto the darkened Liverpool streets in the direction of her house.

"What if you don't find him?" she asks. "What if you go all the way to America and he's not there or dead or something equally as terrible?"

He squeezes her hand. Edward knows that she won't be able to understand this compulsion he feels to find his father. It seems strange, even to him, because the man had done nothing but come to England while in the Army, shag his mum and then return to America, completely unaware that he'd left a son in his wake.

The desire that Edward felt to go to the States was stronger than anything he'd ever felt. He wondered if there wasn't some other reason he felt the draw, but he kept that to himself.

What if his real life was waiting there?

He sighs and swings Tanya's hand back and forth as they walk, quickly covering the ten or so blocks between the bar and her house. "If I can't find him, I'll come home," he replies. "It's as simple as that."

She sighs quietly. "When are you leaving?"

He clears his throat.

"Tomorrow," he says.

"Tomorrow!?" she nearly yells. "You bloody bastard! Were you even planning on telling me goodbye, then?"

"Bastard? Really, Tanya?" Remorse plays on her features as she realizes the connotation that word could actually have for him and he grins at her, stopping alongside her house. He is only joking. She leans back against the brick wall they are walking along and her shoulders fall.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'll miss you. That's all, really."

Edward smiles and runs his finger along her cheekbone. He and Tanya have been dating for a year and a half, and as much as he likes her, he knows that their relationship is not enough to sway him. "I'll miss you, too," he says quietly. "And I'll be back before you know it. Promise me you won't start up with that tosser James while I'm gone, yeah?"

She snorts. "James is a right git. That would never happen."

Edward takes a deep breath and leans forward, grazing his nose along her neck before kissing her gently. His lips move up in some semblance of a line until they reach Tanya's plump mouth. They kiss for an indeterminate amount of time, and by the time her hands are knotted into his hair and she is breathless, he remembers that they are outside and that their behavior is probably less than appropriate.

"Ah, Tanya," he says, his voice faltering.

"I know, I know. I'll be going inside now," she replies.

He nods and wraps his arms around her for a moment, savoring the feeling of her tall frame so close to his. Her strawberry blonde hair smells clean and crisp despite the smoky club they've just left and he works to remember the scent exactly as it is. "I really will miss you," he admits. And he believes that he will.

She nods against his chest and sniffs. "Goodbye," she says. "I love you."

Edward watches her walk inside and then turns over his shoulder, feeling only a slight tug at his heart.

He did not say "I love you" back because he doesn't.

In honesty, Edward has never been in love; he's sure he doesn't know what it is like, and he believes that if one is in love they would definitely know it. He wants the kind of relationship in which he cannot stand to be away from her, where she becomes his everything.

He wants the kind of love story people have been singing about for years and years and he doesn't care if it is effeminate for him to admit it.

Edward hums as he walks across Tanya's neighborhood, smiling at the thought of sitting down for a late night drink or meal with his mother. No matter how often he asks her not to wait up for him, she always does.

He loves her for it.

Elizabeth Masen is, without a doubt, the strongest woman he's ever known; the only thing Edward inherited from his father was his first name. Every day, Elizabeth works long hours to keep up the house they live in, and she does sewing work on the side to make extra money. Edward works at the shipyards and all of his money goes to helping his mum, aside from an amount equal to a few pints a week.

He steps into the house and the scent of a baking bread overwhelms him. "Ma! I told you not to wait up!" he calls out, but Elizabeth only pokes her head around the corner and smiles.

"Since when have I listened to you, son?" she asks.

Edward takes a seat at the table and she hands him a plate on which there is slice of homemade, freshly baked bread, slathered in butter, and then slides a glass of ice cold milk across the table at him. "You don't think I'd let your last night at home pass by without some home cooked food now, do you?" his mother asks.

"No, I suppose not."

"Have you packed yet, Edward?" she asks. He knows his mother supports his decision to try to find his father, but worries nonetheless.

"Not yet. I won't need much, though I do have something for you," he announces. "I'll be right back."

Elizabeth Masen waits at the table as she listens to her son run up the stairwell to his room. Before she knows it, he is back in the kitchen and holding a cigar box in front of her. "It's all the money I've saved since I started working at the yard, Mum," he begins. "I only need to take a few hundred. I'll transfer it into dollars once I get there, but I want you to have this in case I'm gone longer than I anticipate."

Her hands grasp at her throat as she leaps from the table, and then she hugs her son tightly. "Oh, Edward. I'll miss you so."

He fights against the tears as they both sit back down to enjoy their last meal together for a little while. Once the food is gone and he says goodnight, he retreats to his room to pack the few belongings he has. The night ekes by and when the sun begins to rise, Edward is still awake and lying in bed, wondering what America has in store for him.

*~*~*

Edward boards the ship and stands on the dock watching as his home slowly fades from sight. Liverpool is all he's ever known; he's only ever traveled to London a handful of times, and so this trip to America is one he is, all at once, excited and anxious about.

The preliminary research he has performed regarding his father states that he is in New Jersey, working at Princeton University. Edward has grandiose ideas of his father as a professor. He wonders if he will look at all like the picture he has stowed in his wallet, the only one his mother ever took with him.

He thinks back to his conversation with Tanya. She really cannot understand; her family is nearly idyllic - mother, father, two daughters, a lovely house and two cars.

Edward vacillates between intrigue and hatred for his father.

His intrigue stems from the fact that he has literally never known the man. He only knows what he looked like twenty-two years ago because his mother always kept a photo framed in her room, though Edward never fully understood why - the photo is from the day before he left her, after all. He wants to know the most inane things. He wonders if the man likes sugar in his coffee. Does he have any particular religious affiliation? Is he afraid of anything? What is his biggest regret?

There are so many unanswered questions, but Edward's real purpose in finding the man who donated half of his genetic make up is simple: he only wants him to know that he exists.

Hatred is a strong word; Elizabeth would never approve of its use. But Edward does not know another word for his feelings.

To know that a man wooed his mother only to get her pregnant and then leave her is infuriating. He can clearly remember the struggles he and his mother had when he was growing up - money shortages at the most inopportune times; illness and no way to pay for a trip to the doctor; no one to come with Edward to father-centric events at school. But worst of all was his mother's loneliness. As of late she has been seeing a man casually and Edward approves, but for much of his life, he watched her go to bed alone and live a largely solitary existence, aside from the considerable amount of time she spent with him.

Adding insult to injury, there is the fact that this man not only loved and left, but never called again._ Does he really believe that there was no possibility of my existence? _Edward thinks this often, and the bitterness that seethes internally is nearly encompassing.

Edward considers his reasoning for meeting the man who was, for all intents and purposes, a sperm donor. He simply wants this man to know of him, so that he is in the back of the man's mind for the rest of his life. Edward has seen the few pictures his mother keeps in her things. He resembled his father but had his mother's bronze hair and green eyes.

And despite all of that, there would be no mistaking him as Edward Sr.'s son.

Edward walks backward and takes a seat on a bench that is somewhat hidden away. He is surrounded by ocean, sky and the surprisingly quiet sloshing of the waves against the side of the boat as he pulls his legs into his chest and closes his eyes, attempting to relax in what he is sure the calm before the storm.

*~*~*

_Mike, _

_I miss you and hope this letter finds you safe and sound. _

_Life in Hartford is par for the course. Homecoming tickets just went on sale and I thought of you. I had lunch with your mom last weekend. She is so worried about you. For her sake and mine, I hope you are granted a furlough before you ship out to Vietnam. Are you adjusting well to Military life? I certainly hope so. _

_Other than that, Jasper has just confirmed that he'll be visiting home for Thanksgiving. I talk to him often and I know he's itching for a change. I wonder what that will mean for him, and I hope he finds whatever it is he's looking for. I think I'd like to visit him at Princeton. Can you imagine - I'll be starting college myself next fall! Also, Angela and Ben are finally dating! He asked her to the dance and then admitted that he'd been interested in her for months. I'll probably spend the dance with them, since they are the only couple with whom I don't feel like a third wheel. _

_Have you made friends there? Anyone from Connecticut? _

_Mama says hello, and Father sends his love. _

_Bella_

Mike has been gone for two months. Bella has received four letters, and she has written nine. Every time she does, she wonders if Mike can see what she really thinks.

_I don't love you. _

_I never have. _

_I feel as though I owe you my love, but I can't make myself feel something that does not exist. _

_Your 'patriotic duty' is a joke to me; I can't agree with your enlistment… _

_Or our presence in Vietnam. _

_Or much else that you stand for, for that matter. _

And when she remembers all of that, Bella feels low – like she has done Mike and herself a disservice in more ways than one.

She feels that he has wasted his time with her, a girl who cannot feel strongly for him. She feels that she has wasted her time with him because there is no depth to her feelings. Bella is frustrated because she's spent the last few years with Mike, pretending that she wants a future with him, that he is everything she wants and needs, but when she thinks honestly, she has never had the same life goals as him.

She's never really considered him a part of her future.

And now he's gone, and if she breaks things off while he's serving their country, how will that make her look?

Bella feels as though she is stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she cannot stand that she could be injuring Mike because of her previous inability to be honest about her feelings.

And so she continues her existence; class, volunteer, student council. Smile, wave, nod.

And through it all, she feels empty.


	4. Chapter 3: I Want To Hold Your Hand

**Disclaimer: These are not my characters. The Cullens and their friends belong to Stephenie Meyer, and the "Across the Universe" plot belongs to Julie Taymor, Revolution Studios and Columbia Pictures.**

_Yeah, you've got that something_

_I think you'll understand_

- The Beatles, "I Want To Hold Your Hand"

*~*~*

Alice sighs as she watches her parents drive away, leaving her alone for the evening. These are the nights in which being an only child has its perks, but her plans for the evening will not make them happy.

Those plans, though, are necessary.

Dayton, Ohio is a less than thrilling city. Alice Brandon lives there, and has her entire life. Up until six months ago, her life was normal, expected, perhaps even happy.

Then Royce King happened.

He swooped into Alice's life like a knight on a white horse and she was just as quickly swept into a whirlwind romance. He was everything her parents wanted for her: smart, wealthy, going places. He was handsome; tall, blond with blue eyes that matched the sky on a rainy day, and muscular. Alice, the loner than she was, had somehow managed to make the cheerleading squad, and he played basketball.

For four months, they spent their Fridays with the team and the other cheerleaders, drinking and having a ball down at Turner's Corner. Keg stands and drunk girls were the norm, but when Royce drank, Alice wanted to disappear.

He became someone else entirely.

In three beers, he moved from dapper and debonair to moody and calculating. He became rude and short-tempered. He became a bastard, a wolf in sheep's clothing - a bossy, antagonistic prick.

Alice could handle all of that; she had enough spunk for the two of them and then some. No, it wasn't any of that that made Alice cringe and fold back into herself.

What bothered Alice was the fact that when Royce drank, he became violent.

She had bruises on her arms and back from various rants he'd gone on. She'd told him it was time to go one weekend, and he yanked her arm so roughly that she was left with five distinct, finger-shaped bruises. He'd told her to take her sweater off one night and she'd refused, citing the cold weather, and he'd smacked her in the middle of her back so hard she'd had to take a moment to find her breath.

The next day, she'd had a faint bruise there, beneath the strap of her bra in the center of her back, and it was then she realized she needed to get out from under Royce King's thumb.

First, she went to her mother.

"Mama, Royce hits me when he gets drunk," she'd admitted, fully prepared to fess up to her own drinking. Alice had been utterly floored when her mother had finally responded.

The woman, who had given her slight frame to Alice thanks to genetics, had looked at her and said, simply, "Sometimes that's necessary, dear."

Her mouth fell open as Alice watched her mother's eyes return to the embroidery work that she had been holding when Alice approached her. The woman began to hum to herself and Alice couldn't help but stare, wide-eyed, as she retreated from the room.

That had been six months ago, and from that day forward, Alice had known she had no one to turn to.

A month afterward, she'd broken up with Royce, who had quickly taken up with a girl they'd partied with every weekend, Christina. Alice hadn't even had to tell her parents about the split; the word got around their neighborhood, and by the time Alice returned home from her part time job, her parents were waiting for her at the kitchen table, her father with a stern look upon his face.

"Mary Alice, did you break up with that King boy?" he'd asked.

She nodded. "I did, Daddy. He hit me."

"You probably deserved it, you little twit," he replied.

Alice swallowed his insult without so much as a face, and sat as silent as a stone while they berated her for the end of her relationship.

Finally, when they were done, Alice stood up and looked them both in the eye before speaking. "Once day, you'll wake up, and I'll be gone."

That was all she said before walking quickly from the kitchen, her keels clicking on the linoleum as she made her way to her bedroom.

That was the night this idea had been birthed, and Alice was completely certain that she would follow through with it. Dayton, Ohio had nothing for her. She wanted to be somewhere else…anywhere else.

The lights on her parents' sedan move down the street, and when Alice can no longer see them, she turns on her heel, yanking a bag out from under her bed. For two weeks, she has been packing things away, slowly but surely, so that no one in her home noticed they were missing.

In the bag is $367.87 cash, money she saved from her meager paychecks over the last few months. It also contains a toothbrush, a brand new pair of pajama pants and a few t-shirts to sleep in, fresh socks, a small handknife she stole from her father's dresser, and her old and worn copy of her favorite paperback novels: _The Great Gatsby_, _To Kill a Mockingbird_, and _Lord of the Flies_.

Alice walks to her closet and pulls a sweater out. It is thick, and wool, and will hopefully provide her enough warmth for this first portion of her journey to…wherever it is she is going. She slips it on over her long sleeved shirt and tugs at her jeans, suddenly nervous.

Alice looks into the mirror and speaks softly to herself. "You can do this. You deserve to get the hell out of here, Alice Brandon."

Silence reigns in the room as she stares at herself. Long, dark hair that hangs down to her elbows frames her face. Her eyes, which are large and hazel-gray, are framed by long, black lashes, and her lips are pressed into a firm line.

She is resolved.

Alice turns on her heel and throws her bag over her shoulder and silently leaves the comfort of her bedroom. She lets the lamp remain on, a sign that she is still up and awake for her parents when they return. She leaves the music playing on her radio, too. It will just be another sign of normalcy to fool her mother and father.

When she steps through the door and onto the porch, the cold air whips around her as she feels distance growing in her heart and mind. She ignores it and continues to move forward, and with every step, she feels a dichotomy of emotions. First, she feels fear – of the unknown, of her intended destination. What if they find her? What if someone more dangerous finds her? But second, she feels an absolute freedom in the knowledge that she intends to allow herself a new identity, a new life. And so, she swallows down the nerves, just like she swallowed her father's insults, and before she knows it, she is standing at the highway three miles from her home, her thumb out as she waits for a ride.

*~*~*

Edward can feel the ship slowing as it approaches land. He's developed an oddly sensitive stomach over the last two weeks, and any change in velocity of the boat seems to affect him vastly. He cannot lie: two weeks at sea had been an arduous thing to undertake, and by day four, he wondered how his father dealt with the constant rocking. A bit of luck – perhaps beginners' – ensured that he never became physically ill, but the constant rocking of the ship made him crave land.

Never before had Edward simply wanted to walk on solid ground.

He makes his way to the top deck, and he can see that the sea – a constant, deep blue for the last few days – is finally being interrupted with a patch of green. Gray. Brown.

New York is dull and gloomy beneath the darkened, mid-day sky, but he is ecstatic to see land. He will be off this god-forsaken boat soon, and it's enough to make him absolutely giddy with excitement.

He watches as the boat approaches the doc. He listens as the captain mumbles over the loudspeaker. He hears the water gushing at the sides of the hull, and then finally, it happens.

He feels the boat slow, and finally stop.

Finally, he has arrived in America, and it takes everything inside his being not to attempt to jump over the side so that he can move. Edward feels a strange sensation to run, to jump, to dance, to do _something_ crazy now that he has arrived, but he stands still, breathing in the new air.

Slowly – painfully slowly – he walks from the ship, and when his feet hit the solid wood of the pier, he almost does a jig out of sheer joy.

He is starving. "Pardon me," he asks a lady walking near him. She looks at him with raised eyebrows, and he finishes, "Can you tell me where I can get some good food 'round here?"

She nods. "There's a shop three blocks from here," she says.

He has landed in Albany, New York, and he is uncertain of how far the trip to Princeton will be, but he has some money. Perhaps that will help him hitch a ride.

But first, he must eat.

The three blocks between the pier and the café go quickly, and soon, Edward is standing in a quaint little restaurant that offers hot soups, salads and sandwiches. They have a to-go menu, but Edward is content to sit and eat his turkey and cheese sandwich at their bar. As he sits, he watches the people around him, happy to see that, really, Americans are no different than Brits.

He begins to hum to himself as he attempts to plan the remainder of his day. He must get to Princeton, New Jersey, but has no idea how far the drive will be. Perhaps he can look up a bus route, because he knows that renting a car is well outside of his means for the night.

One thing is for sure: he cannot afford a hotel, so he must move, and quickly. He hasn't determined where he will stay once he finds his father, but he assumes it will all work out for the best.

"'Scuse me," he says in a respectful tone as the manager of the café walks by. "Can you tell me how long it'll take me to get to Princeton?"

"The school?" the man asks, his British accent clear. Edward was referring to the city, but the school is his final destination, so he does not correct the man. He nods and feels an odd sense of camaraderie with the man who shares his home country. "It's three hours from here, my boy," he finally answers. "I can give you a ride if you'd fancy that."

Edward gives the man a once-over: he appears nice enough, and really, Edward doesn't have many options, so he nods confidently and asks, "Is it alright if I finish me food first?"

The man, who is named Riley, nods in response and says he'll return in a few; he needs to finalize the accounting for the previous business day. Edward eats heartily, his stomach stretching and full by the time Riley returns. "Ready to go, mate?" he asks.

They walk together to Riley's car, which is parked behind the restaurant in a grimy alley, and within three minutes, they're on the road, quiet rock music filtering through the speakers, and Edward finds that he and Riley are seven years apart in age. He also learns that the man is driving just past Princeton to visit his ailing mother, so Edward's appearance at the café was apparently timed perfectly.

They joke about London and Liverpool, make comparisons between the States and the UK – not that Edward has much to say aside from hearsay – and before he knows it, Edward watches as the sign for the University glides by him.

"Well, chap, here you are," Riley begins, "I'll drop you here." He finds a pen in his pocket and a scrap of paper, writing down a number before shoving the paper at Edward. "If you're ever in a bind, mate…"

Edward eyes the paper. He has no intention of staying in the States for any extended period of time, but having someone to be able to call on sounds like a good idea. "Thanks, mate," he says, and then grabs his solitary bag and steps out of the car.

He watches as the black car moves away from him and it is with a sense of purpose and destiny that he turns around and takes his first steps onto the Princeton campus.

*~*~*

The car that picks Alice up is weathered, to be sure, but the lady driving seems nice enough. She wears a long, floral skirt and a sheer top – lace with embroidery. Her hair is parted down the center of her head and her long, nearly black waves fall to her waist. "Carmen's the name, shug," she says. "What do they call you?"

Mary Alice Brandon looks at the woman – clearly Bohemian in her way of life – and smiles as the car heads out of town. "Alice," she replies, "just Alice." She never liked her first name anyway.

Carmen drives them out of Dayton. She drives them out of Ohio. She drives them until they reach a small town in the middle of nowhere, and by that time, Alice has learned that Carmen is on her way to the Village in New York City, where she will teach a Philosophy class at a small college. Carmen has imparted such wisdom on Alice, and she feels filled to the brim with peaceful thoughts, with hippie ideals, and when they reach that small town, Alice calls out, "Wait! Stop here!"

Carmen nods, pulls off of the highway and into the parking lot of Tina's Hair, a salon with two stylists working. Alice smiles as she holds up a finger to Carmen and walks inside.

"What can I do for you, hon," the stylist asks over her lunch.

"I want you to cut it," Alice replies.

The lady nods. "How much?"

"All of it," answers Alice. "Leave me with a few inches. I want the rest gone."

The stylist shrugs, gestures toward a chair, and Alice takes a seat. The smock is around her shoulders and before she can think twice, clumps of her long, dark hair are on the floor around her.

She closes her eyes as the lady cuts her hair. She never asks for a name or anything, and when the scissors stop and Alice opens her eyes, a different girl looks back at her in the mirror.

Her hair is short and crazy, forming a halo of wispy locks around her face, and she is immediately in love with it.

"Thank you," she breathes, and as she hands a ten to the girl and stands, it feels as though she is twenty pounds lighter.

When she returns to the car to Carmen, who squeals with Alice over her new look, they agree to head to the City together, and before too long the windows are down and they are singing along to the Rolling Stones at the top of their lungs as the miles go by.

With her new haircut, it is official: Mary is gone; Alice is here to stay.

*~*~*

It's approximately 3:30 and Edward has no clue where to go.

He's standing in the middle of a crosswalk, gauging how best to look for his father. After entertaining a million thoughts, he finally decides to look for the main administrative offices and begin there. Just as he takes his first step, though, a tall, blond student runs into him, and Edward's bag and the student's books and papers go flying, scattering all over the lawn.

"Aw, damn," the blond says. "Shit."

"I'm sorry," Edward mumbles.

Blondie shrugs. "Eh, it's alright. You look lost." He's gathered his texts, but it appears that his papers are a lost cause.

"I am, I suppose. Can you tell me if there's a Professor Wesley around?" It's the first time he's said his biological father's name aloud to anyone except his mother, and the last name sounds strange, unfitting.

"Wesley…um," the blond scratches at his chin and smiles. "No, he's not a professor. He's a groundskeeper. That's him, there," he says, pointing. "I gotta run. Good luck."

Edward hardly has time to mumble a goodbye before the blond is gone, and he turns over his shoulder to meet the man for which he has traveled so many miles.

He walks in silence to the man – his father – who is atop a ladder, fixing a light. "Hello, there," he calls out, finally, in a voice that is paper thin.

The man looks back at Edward with familiar features; it is only a glance, but Edward sees himself in the man's face, and he is an older version of the man in the picture he took when he left home. "What can I do for you?" Edward Wesley replies.

"Well, I believe I'm your son," Edward manages, and watches as the man freezes, his hand in midair.

"My…what?"

"Elizabeth Masen is me mother," Edward says, his voice stronger.

At this, his father drops the bulb in his hand and it falls to the cush grass beneath his ladder, forgotten momentarily. "I…we should…ah, follow me, please."

Edward watches him pick up the bulb and fold the ladder. He places it on the ground, leaning against the wall, and nods to his right. The two men walk down a corridor in absolute silence, and Edward follows his father into a small room, where he sits down in a chair and promptly pulls out a flask.

He sips and holds it out to Edward. As the younger man shakes his head, he shrugs and finally says, "What do you want? Why didn't she tell me? I would've…" His face is worried, and then angry, and finally makes its way back to worried, showing that he's rather bothered by this turn of events.

But Edward cuts him off. "What? Come back to England to be the father to your bastard child? She _knew_ better."

"Do you want money? Does she need help?" His father seems flustered, and Jude snorts.

"No. Me mum's fantastic. She took care of me when the neighborhood looked down on her for having a bastard son. It was okay, you know, because I was a product of the war, and all the Americans who'd settled in Liverpool." The bitterness seeps into Edward's tone and quickly, he stifles it, hoping he can remain calm for the duration of this conversation.

His father is confused. "Then…why are you here?"

Edward thinks for a moment, trying to verbalize his feelings on the matter accurately. His lips part and close twice before he says, "I'm not here to derail your life. I'm not here for your love or approval. I'm just here so that we both know the other exists."

The older man stares at him for a full minute before he quietly asks, "Do you need a place to stay?"

Edward smiles tentatively in appreciation, and the older man points him in the direction of an adjoining room. A cot is there, and a pillow, and he tells Edward he can stay for a few days if he wants or needs to.

An odd current fills the rest of their conversation as the two men fill the next hour or so with questions for each other. Edward Senior wants to know how Elizabeth has been through the years. When Edward Junior answers honestly, citing the rough patches - that she's been alone because being a single mother doesn't quite make you appealing - he believes he sees regret course through the elder man's eyes.

It is silent for a beat before either of them speaks again. "Edward, I loved your mother," his father says as he gazes at the photo his son brought with him on his voyage. "I truly did, but I couldn't see how we…and then, I didn't know…" His eyes lift to meet his son's and he says, "But I'm glad I do now."

Soon after, the man must return home to his wife, and they share an awkward hug goodbye. After watching him walk away, Edward fingers the flask his father has left with him. He sips the liquid inside it – brandy, and high quality at that – and flops himself onto the cot. Hours pass while he drains the liquor and it is nightfall when he steps outside again to smoke a cigarette.

**AN: Sorry for being super-fail about this update. I had to move (at the last minute) and also, I'll fess up here: I actually write as another author here on FanFiction(dot)net, and I have several WIPs at the moment, one of which stole my attention. **

**I will be working on this diligently, to get you updates regularly. **

**Also, an FYI: I'm following the movie for this fic rather closely. The chapters are broken up the way the movie was, so if you go watch AtU right now, you'll see that these events – at least the ones that were in the movie (I'm making Alice Prudence, sans her being a lesbian, so I had to change her story up a bit) – happened during the song used for the title of this chapter. And, when applicable, I'll be using key quotes. That's exactly what Jude said to his dad when he finally found him. I'm a nerd, I know. **

**Thanks for your patience. I'll update soon.**


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